


Easy Like Sunday Morning

by thatviciousvixen



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Carisi, Domestic Bliss, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatviciousvixen/pseuds/thatviciousvixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sweet ah...sweet is good,” Sonny stammered, mouth going dry.</p>
<p>“Sweet is good,” Rafael agreed, lips curving into a lazy grin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy Like Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Anon requested on Tumblr: Carisi likes to cook and make breakfast before work for him and Barba but Barba is always so damn *~distracting~* in the mornings so breakfast usually ends up cold and forgotten.
> 
> Tumblr [here](http://that-vicious-vixen.tumblr.com), let's sigh over Peter Scanavino together.

It’s not that Sonny didn’t like pancakes. He loved them actually, he’d always been the guy who liked his breakfasts sweet and syrupy. When he was a kid his mother was constantly battling with him to eat more than just the marshmallows in the Lucky Charms, until she gave up and stopped buying the good cereals all together. After that he was stuck chewing on the raw sawdust of Frosted Mini-Wheats or whatever the hell else old people tried to convince themselves tasted good once their souls died.

So yeah. Sweet? He was all about it.

He even bought the good maple syrup, the expensive stuff. Which is why his Sundays always ended up so...naked, and why his pancakes always seemed to go uneaten.

A born and bred morning person, Sonny was always up well before Rafael; evening on mornings when neither man had to work or do anything useful with their day. He found a nice little slice of zen in the early morning sunlight streaming through their kitchen window, humming bits of the songs on the Z100 top forty countdown while he mixed up batter for pancakes. A bowl of strawberries sat on the counter ready to be sliced and somewhere in the fridge was a packet of bacon he should get around to frying.

“Got a long list of ex-lovers, they’ll tell you I’m insane…” He sang in a breathy falsetto that was definitely _not_ in his range, voice hushed so he wouldn’t wake the man sleeping in the other room. “But I’ve gotta blank space baby...and I’ll write you name…”

“Have you ever thought of auditioning for American Idol?” The gruff voice behind him made him jump, nearly dropping the mixing bowl in his hand. 

“Jesus. Why are you up so early?”

Rafael yawned, padding through the kitchen in his pajama pants as he headed for the coffee machine. It was the fancy kind, the one that made one cup at a time and was a huge waste as far as Sonny was concerned. Who even drank one cup of coffee at a time anyway? Certainly not any man currently standing in the kitchen, which accounted for everyone who lived in their house (their shiny new house with both of their names on the shiny new paperwork. Sonny still couldn’t get over that).

“I’m up because you’re up. The bed’s cold,” Rafael muttered, now cradling his steaming mug between his palms and leaning a hip against the counter. “Very rude of you, you know.”

“I know, I’m the worst,” Sonny laughed, kneeling to pull their countertop griddle out from under the cabinet. “Breakfast to make it up to you?”

“I’ll decide after I eat it, so you better impress me,” Rafael teased sleepily. He lazily picked the maple syrup up off of the counter, peering at it as his eyes tried to adjust to being awake. “This isn’t Mrs. Butterworth.”

“No, it’s better,” Sonny informed him, turning the skillet on and waiting for it to heat up. “It’s good. My uncle in Vermont sends it to all of us at Christmas, it’s going to change your life.’’ Every year he got the same box from his family out West, carefully packed and addressed to “Dominick Jr.” Every year it held a smaller box inside, wrapped in simple red or gold or green paper with a small note wishing him well and urging him to come visit soon. Some day he was going to get out there.

“For the better, I hope,” Rafael hummed. He twisted the red cap off, tipping the bottle to deposit some of the sweet, sticky liquid onto his finger. Bringing the digit to his lips, he sucked on it thoughtfully. “Mm. Mhm.”

Sonny stared, mouth ever-so-slightly hanging open. “It’s uh. It’s good?”

“Oh yeah. Sweeter than what I’m used to.” Rafael repeated the action, quirking an eyebrow.

“Sweet ah...sweet is good,” Sonny stammered, mouth going dry.

“Sweet is good,” Rafael agreed, lips curving into a lazy grin. He knew what he was doing, of course he did. The bastard always had a complete handle on the situation, Sonny just did his best to keep up.

Rafael tipped some more onto his finger, this time offering it to Sonny. “Here...taste,” he offered, voice soft in the stillness of the morning.

Sonny dropped the bowl and whisk, closing the distance between them. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he moved to obey, not even stopping to process the command before he was acting upon it. Stooping a bit, he kept his eyes locked with Rafael’s as he took the offered finger between his lips and sucked the syrup off. Fighting a moan, he swirled his tongue around the digit for good measure.

When he pulled off Rafael quickly tugged him closer, pressing their lips together in a demanding kiss. “You leave the bed far too quickly in the morning,” he moaned, sliding his hands around to squeeze Sonny’s ass. “How am I supposed to jump you for a morning quickie if you’re already gone?”

“I’m sorry, I know. I’m a total disappointment,” Sonny said with a grin, sliding his palms up Rafael’s sides and down his chest. 

“I know, I don’t know how I manage,” Rafael teased. He turned them, crowding the younger man against the counter. Reaching into the pocket of his cotton sleep-pants he produced a small tube of slick and smirked. “Luckily there aren’t many places in this house where you can hide from me.”

“Luckily I don’t _want_ to hide from you,” Sonny said, eyes wide. He was already turning, bending over the counter and wriggling his ass invitingly. In no time at all Rafael had his jeans and boxers down, pushing his flannel-button up into a bunched mess to expose his ass. 

“You know, I always wanted a live-in house boy,” Rafael sighed happily, lightly running his nails up the backs of Sonny’s thighs. “Someone to clean and cook and prance around in tiny shorts. He’d be well compensated of course, I am, after all, quite the provider…”

Sonny laughed breathlessly, dropping his head down and shivering at the sensation of nails along his sensitive flesh. “Are you offering to be my sugar daddy?”

“I’d get to buy you new clothes and replace that stupid car,” Rafael smirked, popping open the lube and drizzling it messily along the cleft of Sonny’s ass. “All you’d have to do is be young and attractive and be seen with me at high profile events so everyone can envy my younger lover. And, you know. Those tiny shorts.”

Sonny was working his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows knit as two sure fingers slid into him. Rafael was taking his time, lazily working the lube into him before curling his fingers to stroke against his prostate. “Are we..ah, are we talking like, Daisy Dukes? Or...mmmmngh, or little glittery stripper shorts or something? Or something cute and flowery like those uni girls wear in the summer?”

Rafael sighed happily as his mind slid over the possibilities. The mental image of Sonny wearing nothing but sweet, summery shorts and some lipgloss was a good one. He scissored his fingers for a moment before easily slipping a third one in. “All three.”

“Yeah well. We’ll see. Maybe for your birthday or somethin’,” Sonny said, voice high and breathy. “Now fuck me, you know I don’t need that much prep.”

“You used to, my sweet little bisexual virgin,” Rafael cooed, kissing Sonny’s shoulder as he slicked his cock.

“Virgin my ass,” Sonny moaned as Rafael lined up and pressed in. Rafael was thick, so deliciously thick, it always stole the breath from his lungs to feel so incredibly _full._ It really was a process in the beginning, but they always made do - usually with Rafe’s tongue in his ass, or three fingers pressed deep while a clever tongue teased his cock. It took no time at all for his body to relax into the sensation, to eagerly accept what he was being given.

“Fuck, how are you always so tight?” Rafael hissed, reaching around to grab Sonny’s hips and pull him into the thrusts.

Sonny could only whine, fingernails scratching against the countertop as he wriggled back into the sensation. “Pelvic floor exercises,” he managed to wheeze. The sound cut off as Rafael gave a particularly hard thrust in, knocking the air from his lungs. “Ooohfuckyeah that’s good.”

Rafael leaned in, pressing hot, sloppy kisses along Sonny’s back and shoulders as he set an easy pace with his hips. Nothing teasing, nothing too hard. It was that lovely in between, a persistent press and pull that grazed Sonny’s prostate each time and left him panting against the laminate countertop. God, he could fuck Sonny for hours if the younger man would ever give him the chance. The tight heat of him stroking Rafael’s cock, his hot, flushed skin, the breathless laughter and affectionate words leaving his lips. How could someone so _Brooklyn_ be so perfect?

“God, fucking love you Rafael, so good, Jesussss,” Sonny hissed, pressing up onto his toes to cant his hips up into the thrusts. “So fucking sweet to me, please…”

Rafael pressed in hard, giving a particularly deep grind of his hips before pulling out completely. He laughed at the pathetic noise Sonny made at the loss. “Come on, turn around. Hips on the counter.”

Sonny turned, face wary. “Last time we did this I fell and slipped a disc.”

“Well then don’t fall this time,” Rafael advised with a snort. Once Sonny was sitting on the counter he braced his heels on the edge, scooting as far forward as he could without slipping. 

“Don’t let me fall, Rafael,” he warned, cock twitching despite his imagined peril.

Rafael responded by holding the backs of his thighs, sinking in once more.

Back arching, Sonny let out a soft breath as his fingers scrabbled for grip on the counter. “Jesus Mary and fuckin’ Joseph, Rafael…”

Rafael sighed, once more setting an easy pace. “When we go to confession, do you tell them all the terrible things you say during sex?”

“Nah, wouldn’t want to do that to poor Father Patrick,” Sonny grunted, spitting in his palm before taking his own dick in hand. He whined as he rubbed his thumb over the head, spreading precome down to the shaft. Circling his thumb and forefinger just under the grown he squeezed lightly before stroking firmly along his length. “Mm deeper, fuuuck please…”

Rafael obliged, letting Sonny handle his own cock and instead pushing his thighs farther apart. His cheeks were turning pink, sweat beading on his forehead as he leaned in to suck and lick at Sonny’s nipples. “You getting close?”

Sonny nodded frantically, sinking his teeth deep into his bottom lip. He started to stroke himself faster, fucking into his hand and onto Rafael’s length at the same time.

With a helpless gasp he came, spilling onto his stomach. Rafael would never get over his face during climax; Sonny looks almost pained, eyebrows knit, eyes shut tight, lips parted in a silent moan as his body shuddered and tensed. He looked lost. Perfect.

The sight of it alone was enough to send Rafael over the edge. With another hard thrust and a choked moan he came, nails digging hard into Sonny’s pale skin.

They sat there for a long moment, holding onto each other as their bodies cooled and their breathing slowed.

When they finally pulled apart Sonny slid off of the counter, gingerly walking towards the bathroom to clean up. He was barely gone for a moment before his head popped out, face wary. “Don’t you go telling Father Patrick the things I say, either. I’ll know, I always know when you rat me out for something.”

Rafael laughed, grabbing a napkin to clean himself up before pulling his pajama pants back up. With a sigh he turned on the griddle, grabbing the pancake batter Sonny had abandoned on the counter.


End file.
